


A Dislike for Humanity

by EdgarIsRotating



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Fae!Gon, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarIsRotating/pseuds/EdgarIsRotating
Summary: Shoutout to Cia for saving me from Failing At Grammar
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Cia for saving me from Failing At Grammar

As Killua’s eyes trailed up from one beautifully intricate leather boot left untied, strings hanging down, to the other boot, this one tied but the pant leg partially untucked, hanging out in a disarray of green fabric, to miles of long sprawling legs covered in that same fabric, to a tunic, wrinkled and half laced over a broad chest, to messy spiked hair and a sideways crown of thorns and worn golden coins, the first thing Killua found it in himself to observe was that Gon looked terribly, terribly detached. Gon’s gaze lulled, his eyes half lidded shut, head thrown back against the soft moss patched bark of his throne, legs spread leisurely, arms draping over the sides, throat fully exposed to the court before him. He didn’t even seem to notice Killua’s presence, his disinterest complete and total. The second thing Killua noted was Gon’s eyes. Half shut and unengaged as they may seem, they were still strikingly, endlessly, impossibly beautiful. The last two things Killua noticed happened in quick succession of one another. First, Gon’s throat bobbed with a swallow, and Killua’s eyes snapped down to watch the movement, enraptured, feeling as if he could see Gon’s pulse itself if he looked hard enough. And then there were Gon’s teeth. The throne felt all the more threatening as Gon licked his lips, teeth flashing sharp and white and dagger-like, less than human. Killua shifted, gut restless and uneasy, the silence ongoing and oppressive. And then Gon spoke, and a chill went down Killua’s spine.  
“So,” Gon drawled out with no obvious sense of urgency, voice dry and cracked from days of unuse. “You’re here for something, I take it? Humans always are.” The young man lowered before Gon’s boots was quite handsome. Gon liked that. Humans were despicable, greedy, predictable creatures. They were vile and disagreeable and if Gon had to deal with them at times, he may as well enjoy their features. He hated it when they weren’t pretty. Things were boring enough for the fae king already. The man at his heels didn’t respond immediately, seeming to be processing the words spoken to him. When he did speak finally, it was quiet and curt, words seeming carefully chosen.  
“Yes. I’d like you to grant me a wish.”  
Oh, so he’d like Gon to ‘grant him a wish,’ well, Gon would like to bash his head against the nearest pillar in boredom. We don’t all get what we want. Why were humans so predictably simple? Why did they always want the same thing? Gon’s advisor, Kurapika, had insisted that Gon hear this man out, despite Gon’s recent refusal to receive any humans into his court. He’s strong, Kurapika had said. He’ll be useful to you. Gon let out a sigh of pure annoyance. Useful in causing his boredom induced death to speed up, that’s for sure.  
“All right, human.” Gon’s head still lulled against the throne, throat still exposed, uncaring as to any potential dangers. “I will grant you a wish, in exchange for your name. A wish for a name, that’s all. A simple deal, no?”  
When Killua words left his mouth, requesting a wish, he’d seen pure disgust flash across Gon’s face briefly, the most emotion he’d yet to see out of the faery king. It was quick to fade to detached boredom once more, though, and Killua felt almost defeated by the disinterest itself. It hurt more than one would expect, to be looked at as if you were the most unimportant thing in the world. To be treated as if you were nothing, as if your existence was only a blip in another’s day. Killua had never met somebody so thoroughly exasperated with the existence of life before now. Perhaps this is what all the faerfolk were like. Gon was quick to present his deal, and having already known what the stakes would be, having already known that Gon would request his name, Killua did not hesitate. He rose from his knees, movements soft and silent as he leaned over the side of the throne, pale hand ghosting over Gon’s chest as he whispered, breath cold and startling, “Killua Zoldyck.”  
His voice was calm and unwavering, and he quickly sunk back to his knees before the throne once more, looking up to the monarch before him. The court whispered amongst themselves, unused to someone so willingly giving their name to the fae. The king himself looked almost engaged for half a second, the unexpectedly bold admission close to getting some form of emotional reaction, though any such care quickly vanished as the king spoke once more.  
“And your wish, Killua?” Killua smiled. Gon felt himself startling as the young man- Killua- smiled. The king quite enjoyed it. He hadn’t startled in a very long time. The smile was a ruthless one, cold and unforgiving, and if Gon hadn’t placed centuries of wishes, if he hadn’t been well versed in avoiding loopholes and trickery, he may have been unnerved. He may have been concerned that he was about to be ensnared. The smile was pure menace, nothing human like about it at all, and Gon almost wished he’d payed more attention to the man before now. He was almost interested in what his wish would be. Then, Killua spoke, voice just as frigidly unwavering and disarmingly confident as his smile had been.  
“Two years from now, on the evening of July sixth, in the window between when the sun sets and before the day changes into another, I wish for you to kill me. I’ll spare your time, do not hassle with using my name as an influence over me. There’s no need for these next two years, I vow to do what you request, when you request it, Faery King.”  
Gon felt himself cringing, disgusted bile rising in his throat. He hated these requests. He didn’t get them often, and he’d never received one with such a specific date, but they were some of his least favourite wishes to grant. He despised humanity for many things, and one of those things was their propensity to give up. How dare they make him commit their own acts of weakness? He’d thought, for half a second, when Killua’s eyes had lit up and he’d smiled with such intimidation, that he’d be different. That he’d have an interesting wish. That Gon might, for the first time in decades, be briefly entertained by the request he received. It was a shame, he thought, spitting onto the young man kneeling before him. He truly did hate these types of wishes.  
“Alright,” he intoned, voice seeming to fill the court as Killua wiped spit from his cheek. “Your wish shall be granted, pathetic human. I will call on you when you are needed. You are dismissed from my court, Killua Zoldyck. Do not return if you are not asked for.” He scoffed at the human. How they could just give up, Gon would never understand.  
It was a year and a half before Killua would be called upon.


	2. Chapter 2

Gon had almost forgotten about Killua in his entirety by the time he found himself in need of the man. Killua’s two years were almost up when Kurapika, Gon’s advisor, suggested that he use Killua to assassinate a certain threat to the Faerfolk. Assassins, that’s right. Gon had forgotten that it was Killua’s trade. With little confidence that the man could even get the job done, Gon called upon him, too lazy to argue with Kurapika about the decision. He was... something close to surprised, to say the least, when a handful of days after he’d sent his request, the target showed up dead. He didn’t call upon the Zoldyck again.


	3. Chapter 3

Gon found himself standing in a beautiful garden, stars illuminating the flowers, the king feeling small before an impressively tall home. He’d been notably displeased when he felt the tug upon his soul to complete a wish. He wasn’t looking forward to this one. Gon took a step forward, wings unfurling behind him with the creaking of bows in the wind, slowly taking to the air. He drifted up to a windowsill, the one he could feel Killua in, landing on the ledge with soft grace, giving the glass a tap.  
Killua was expecting the faery king, but he wasn’t sure how he’d come. He hadn't expected him to arrive via the window, but he also found that he wasn’t entirely surprised. The wings did surprise him, though. He knew, logically, that Gon had to have them, he just hadn’t expected them to be so haunting, his figure highlighted by the stars behind him, wings slowly furling against his back once more, formed of willow branches and spiderwebs. Killua walked across towards the imposing form, pulling his window open.  
“Faery king, how lovely to see you,” he stated blandly, uninterested in bowing before the other now that an inescapable deal had already been struck. Gon remained silent, tilting his head upwards, shifting his weight to sit cross legged upon the windowsill, watching the mannerisms of the other as Killua leaned against the frame above him. Killua watched him back, eyes cold and hard, making Gon’s heart ache in a way he hadn’t expected. He’d met so many humans, seen so much of their tragedy, of their devastation, of their loss. What could make a human’s soul as aged as the one before him? Humans lived for such short times, and yet Gon felt in that instant as if Killua had lived for centuries.  
Gon broke the stare, eyes skittering off to the floor. He tugged his crown off, letting it hang from his fingertips, running a hand through his hair before speaking, voice quiet. “Do you have any preferences, Killua?” Killua raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the king below him.  
“For my death? Yes, actually. Make it look like a murder, will you?”  
Gon gave a solemn nod, remaining unmoving on the windowsill, watching Killua once more. He stayed that way, motionless for quite awhile before shifting slightly, the sudden movement causing the other to flinch. Gon dropped his feet to the floor and stood, and Killua.....let out a slight snort. Which unnerved the faery king. Who laughs during their own murder?  
“What,” the king demanded gruffly, suddenly feeling on display before the young man. Killua raised a slender hand to his face, hiding his smirk.  
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just.” He snorted again, trying to muffle it with his hand. “I’m taller than the faery king.” Gon let out a squeak of indignation, clamping a hand over his own mouth as it slipped out. Killua laughed loudly, hand falling away from his lips at the undignified action of the royalty before him. Here the king of the faeries was, the same creature who had made Killua feel insignificant and small just years ago, and now he was blushing and embarrassed. Killua was... enjoying it. A lot. Gon watched him laugh for a moment, allowing a small smile to creep onto his face before it fell once more, mood shifting suddenly.  
“So. We should get on with it.”  
Killua stopped laughing abruptly, and gave a sharp nod. Gon stood unmoving once more, before slowly reaching out, warm hand ghosting against Killua’s cheek before hesitating, retracting back slightly.  
“Killua... I have until midnight by the terms of our agreement, yes? Can we just... talk a little while?” Gon wasn’t sure what had made him request that. He didn’t even care about the human before him. It’s not as if any of humanity interested him. But he was slowly finding that he really, really did not want to complete his task.  
Killua, to Gon’s relief, gave a brief nod, grabbing the king’s sleeve, pulling him towards a neatly made bed, the two falling on top of the covers, Gon’s clothes rumpling in a very unkingly fashion as he stared at the ceiling. And talk they did. About anything and everything. They talked and laughed and Gon wasn’t bored for the first time in centuries. Killua asked Gon what it was like to be a king, and Gon asked Killua what it was like to be an assassin even though he already knew the answer, because what does a king do if not kill? They talked about unimportant things, about life, about the drama of Gon’s court, about the drama of Killua’s family. They talked and talked and talked, and Gon lost himself in the ceiling paint, eyes swimming in the sea of white until Killua popped into his vision, leaning over him. “Hey,” he smiled down. “Faery king, you’ve got five minutes.”  
And- oh. Gon had forgotten. He had forgotten about this. He hadn’t spoken as many words in decades as he had today, and he suddenly realized they still weren’t enough. He couldn’t do this. He had to do this. Gon licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry.  
“Hey, Killua?” The other responded with a questioning look down at him. “Why, Killua?” A blank look passed over the assassin’s face for less than a second, before giving Gon a slightly sad smile.  
“I don’t want to be in charge of the business. I can’t leave. My parents....” he trailed off, before starting again. “If I killed myself, my parents would punish my siblings to ensure they weren’t weak like me. I know they would. I’m sorry for dragging you into it. But staging a murder, taking one life... it won’t matter to you, right?” Killua looked desperate for a moment, as if filled with worry over doing something to hurt another, and Gon felt as if it mattered to him more than anything right now. Of course it mattered to him. Why did it matter to him? He gave Killua a relaxed look.  
“No, of course not.” The fae didn’t lie. This fae was lying.  
Killua flopped onto the bed next to him once more, disappearing from Gon’s vision, and his voice seemed calm and content as he spoke  
“Good. You have two minutes.”  
Gon’s chest rose and then fell, trying to control his thoughts as he rolled over onto Killua, hand delicately tracing his cheek. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. He had to do this.  
“Your wish,” he gave Killua a smile as the other looked up at him, expression peaceful. Gon’s eyelids fluttered closed, the hand on Killua’s cheek stilling, his other hand coming up to settle around Killua’s throat, tightening until he felt the tug of need to hold up a deal dissipate. “...is granted.”  
Gon didn’t open his eyes, but a tear fell from one, landing onto Killua’s cheek before the king rose, taking a few steps back, picking his crown up from the table where he’d left it. He opened his eyes once more as he slipped from the window, staring down at his hand. Gon had never liked humanity, or so he told himself.


End file.
